


After the Fallen

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 04:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas comes home, and it's a relief for everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Fallen

Cas comes home, and it’s a relief for everyone.

Sam and Dean usher him inside, keep their questions locked behind taut lips until he’s resting on the couch, limbs askew. They talk well into the afternoon; interrogate him with quiet voices and gentle smiles until Cas is all burnt out; he curls against the couch, eyes sunken into their sockets, and Dean calls Sam away, retreats from the room with muted footsteps.

When Dean returns with a blanket, Cas reaches for him with limp fingers, pulls him into the most awkward embrace Dean has ever experienced. His chin hits the back of the couch; his teeth clack together painfully. Cas tucks his head into Dean’s chest, whispers _I’m sorry_ more times than Dean is able to count.

Dean lets him hold on – just this once. He pats Cas’ head, says _: I know, Cas. I’ve got you_ , between each apology. When Cas starts to drift away, Dean dislodges the curled fingers clinging to his jacket, slips them under the blanket and tucks it all the way up to his chin – just like he used to do for Sammy when he was a boy. 

Cas sleeps, and Dean hopes he’ll be alright.

 

When Cas wakes it is the next day.

He stumbles into the kitchen where Dean is frying eggs, groggy and squinty-eyed. Dean tracks his progress from the doorway, swallows down a wave of fondness when he spots Castiel’s socked feet. “Morning,” he greets, and scrapes an egg onto a piece of toast.

Cas stands in the middle of the room, watches in silence as Dean deposits the plate on the table and gestures to the food with a wave of his hand. “Soup’s on,” he says. “Hope you like your eggs sunny side.”

Cas furrows his brow but starts to drift towards Dean. As he passes he reaches out a hand, grips Dean’s arm. “Thank you,” he murmurs with widely sincere eyes.

Dean raises an eyebrow. “It’s just an egg, Cas.”

Cas nods, looks directly into Dean’s eyes. “I am aware,” he says, and his voice is just the same as it ever was – gravel rough and cosmic. “But I am unworthy of anything you might have to give me.”

He sits down at the table, starts eating in melancholic silence, and Dean feels a profound ache in his chest where previously there had been nothing.

Dean rolls his eyes. He says: _You’re an idiot_ even though what he means is _I’m so glad you came home._

He washes the pan under the tap and walks away.

 

Cas seeks Dean out that afternoon – knocks on his bedroom door and calls his name softly through the wood.

Dean invites him in, slings his legs over the side of the bed so he’s sitting upright and rubs the sleep from his eye. “What’s up?” he asks when Cas pushes open the door and shuffles in.

At first, Cas is silent; he blinks in the dim light of the room, tattered trench coat still hanging from his shoulders. His gaze travels across each wall, taking in the sparse decorations; the display of weapons. His eyes settle on the blade from Purgatory, and Dean imagines he can see some forgotten flame burn briefly in his irises.

At last he looks at Dean, and there’s something deeply sad about his expression that makes Dean’s heart clench. He pats the bed beside him. “Talk to me,” he says, and tries not to remember the last time he said those words.

Cas barely hesitates, strides over to Dean and flops onto the bed beside him – so close they are thigh-to-thigh, shoulder-to-shoulder. He hangs his head low, places his hands on his knees.

“Dean,” he says, and they’re so near Dean can feel the tremor that runs through Cas’ body when he speaks. “I know it’s too much to ask. I know I – I know I have no right to ask it, but–“ He sighs, shakes his head. “I would like for you to forgive me.”

It surprises Dean, though he’s not sure why. He rubs a hand over his leg, teases the loose threads in his jeans.

“Yeah,” he says, and he feels Cas stiffen beside him. “I forgive you.”

Cas exhales, and the loosening of his body is like a dam breaking. He raises his head, locks red-rimmed eyes onto Dean’s sleepy-green ones. “Why?” he asks, barely a whisper.

Dean shrugs, makes a wry face. “Not because you deserve it.” He nudges Cas’ leg with his knee. “But because we’re family. And family forgives each other.”

Cas makes a noise deep in his throat. “Thank you, Dean,” he murmurs, and leans in, rests his weary head on Dean’s shoulder.

What possesses him, Dean doesn’t know, but his arms snake around Castiel of their own accord, bracket his trembling body in a tight embrace. He pulls Cas closer and he goes easily, melts into Dean’s chest like he’s been _waiting_ for this moment. Dean cards a hand through his hair, rests his chin atop Castiel’s head. “Don’t worry,” he mutters. “I’ve got you.”

It’s oddly tender, but Dean doesn’t feel uncomfortable or embarrassed; instead he feels _right_ , like something has finallyclicked into place. 

Cas sighs against him, presses a hand to the place above Dean’s heart. “I have never deserved your kindness,” he mumbles, fingers cold even through Dean’s t-shirt, and Dean’s heart stutters beneath them.

He holds Cas tighter, blinks away the itchiness in his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, because he has never been good with words, because the words he _wants_ to say are too heavy on his tongue.

Cas pulls back, and Dean slides his hands over his shoulders, squeezes. “You gotta promise me one thing, though,” he says, and Cas tilts his head.

“Of course, Dean.”

“Promise me you’ll stay this time. No running off anymore, you hear me?”

He nods, wide-eyed. “I assure you I won’t, Dean.”

“Good,” Dean says. “Good.” He drops his hands to his lap, averts his gaze. “Me and Sammy could really do with an extra pair of hands around here.”

The unspoken words pass between them and Cas smiles, solemn. He touches Dean’s shoulder, his jaw, his cheek. “This is my home now,” he murmurs. “You’re my family.”

Dean turns his head into Castiel’s hand, breathes life onto his skin, and Cas presses his thumb to Dean’s mouth, slides his lips apart so he can touch the wet underside. 

Dean smiles, kisses Castiel’s palm. “I’m so glad you came home,” he tells him, and this time he means exactly what he says. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr!: wexchester.tumblr.com


End file.
